Sell with Confidence
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By Gavin Staindl

“So I’m back from my little holiday getaway to the Philippines. For anyone who hasn’t been, do yourself a favour and go. The remote islands are like Bora Bora but cheaper.
But you don’t want to hear about that, so let me tell you about a story you do want to hear.

It was today seven years ago that innocent little me went around to a house in Narre Warren to sign contracts. You see, the owners had sold their investment property but because of a “prior engagement” they couldn’t come to my office to sign off on the contract. Me, being the pro-active agent, said I’d come to them.
So at 4:30pm on a Saturday after my inspections I made my way to their flashy double storey home in Narre Warren. I knocked on the door and I was greeted by a very happy girl in her mid 20’s.
“You’re early,” she said.
“Am I? I’m pretty sure I said I would be here at 4:30pm,” I replied.
“That’s ok, come inside and you can use this room. Do what you need to do,” she gestured with a smile that hadn’t left her face.

I was rather perplexed but I obliged and sat in the front room of the house.
“I’ll come back down shortly, can I get you a drink, a beer or even a cocktail maybe?”
Odd question from the daughter of a client but I declined the gracious offer.

Five minutes later she comes back and says:
“Alright, we’re ready for you. Did you want to change or is that the outfit you wanted?”
Now at this stage I was concerned. Genuinely concerned.
“Sorry, I’m just here to sign contracts with the sellers of the house in Officer… I’m not sure why I need to change my outfit.”
She looked as concerned as me. Then the light bulb switched on.
“Ohhhh, sorry we thought you were the stripper. We are having a hens party upstairs.”
HAHAHAHAHA. Oh. Well, no, sorry but I am not your male dancer.

The worst/best part was that to sign the contracts from the owner I had to walk through the throng of 20 ravenous women/girls who didn’t care that I wasn’t their exoctic entertainment.
“Take your shirt off,” laughed one of the older ladies.
“Lap dances over here,” another lady said as she pointed to the general area of her crotch.
For anyone that knows me knows that it took a lot of self-restraint for me to ignore the drunk requests from the ladies. I had a job to do. Get in, get out. Which I did and I never looked back.

I’m glad I made it out and lived to tell this tale.
So if you aren’t selling your house but need some entertainment for a hens night you know who to call.
If you are selling your house, ignore this email. It won’t help.

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